Me and Oscar sat in his room for a little bit, not saying much. I stared at all his books and his games. Waited for him to say something; must have known I wasn’t going to let it slide. It was foolish, he said finally. Ill advised. You could say that twice. What the f*ck were you thinking, O? He shrugged miserably. I didn’t know what else to do. Dude, you don’t want to be dead. Take it from me. No-pus*y is bad. But dead is like no-pus*y times ten. It went like that for about half an hour. Only one thing sticks out. Right before I headed out, he said: It was the curse that made me do it, you know. I don’t believe in that sh*t, Oscar. That’s our parents’ sh*t. It’s ours too, he said.